


Dance of the Old Capital

by Calesvol



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Geisha, F/M, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Star-crossed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:20:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25294579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calesvol/pseuds/Calesvol
Summary: Weeks after she and Sasori have a fateful encounter at one of her client's events at a tea house, Sakura and Sasori are equally torn. As geisha and danna, there are lines they cannot cross. Yet, even though the stars incline them, they do not determine their fates. (Sequel to Cherry Blossom Dance.)
Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Sasori
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	Dance of the Old Capital

Warning(s): G, none

* * *

Like the world the geisha created for their clients, the Arashiyama Bamboo Grove was like stepping into another dimension. A jade haze hung amid the soaring stalks of bamboo, an emerald canopy allowing scant traces of dappled sunlight on an otherwise unseasonably warm spring day. Milling tourists and the odd foreigner often walked with linked arms with their sweethearts, a reflection of changing social mores of the Taisho Era.

Sakura knew she was fortunate. Being such a prolific geisha, there was any number of things the okiya mother, Tsunade Senju, could have her do: take several of her kimono to the local seamstress for repair and maintenance, see the hairdresser to have her hair pulled and waxed in a _chignon_ for the week, to train on the shamisen and refine her arts, or attend day-time events with high-paying clients who wished for a geisha’s company outside of the tea houses. But, Tsunade was kind, and upon explaining the situation with her danna, the blonde had graciously allowed her leave until the evening when her work would begin.

And, she was grateful. Sasori was someone precious her; more precious than she could give word, but after what had happened almost two weeks ago, she was beginning to realize how much.

It hadn’t helped that the man had disappeared to his private workshop in Arashiyama, as it took Sakura more time than she would’ve liked to finally locate the elusive puppeteer.

A week in Kyoto’s arts community was like a lifetime, and rumor surrounding the puppet master’s apparent infatuation with Sakura Hatuno spread like a storm in little time at all, which was the likely reason for the man’s sudden disappearance. Sakura, thankfully, was largely spared from scorn, as many clients weren’t invested enough in their little world to really comprehend what was happening, leaving her evenings in the tea houses devoid of rumor, but hearing other geisha gossip as she passed them in the streets made her feel self-conscious. Even some of the maiko shamelessly participated in it!

Huffing and trying to forget her newfound estrangement, being only clad in a light blue yukata and sash, simple geta, and with her hair in a braid and without cosmetics rendered her fairly invisible from prying eyes who would’ve otherwise recognized her. At least, from those who would take one look and equate her with the scandalizing performance from a few weeks prior.

 _Except… was it so scandalizing?_ Sakura asked herself as her stride slowed, the clicking of wooden soles alone on the dusty path that ran the length of the bamboo grove’s main drag stopping altogether. A lone songbird answered for her in a sweet refrain, a clout of guilt glimmering as threatening tears in her eyes.

“Haruno-sama? What are you doing out here alone?”

Sakura wheeled to see Teuchi himself, exactly the man she’d wanted to find. The proprietor of a few local ramen shops and of a luxuriant ryokan situated in the heart of Arashiyama, he coincidentally the person she needed then and there. Sasori’s private retreat just so happened to be on his property, after all.

“Teuchi-san, I need to see Sasori-sama. I’m sorry I can’t really talk, but—it’s urgent,” she said insistently, met with a kind, somewhat sad smile.

“I wondered why he informed me of his coming so quickly. I promised I wouldn’t say, that he needed time to think, but… the fact that you’re seeking him yourself tells me that the gods might have brought me here to help intervene on your behalf.”

Sakura’s heart soared when he said that, unable to help the succession of bows that followed. “Thank you, Teuchi-san! I’ll pray for you the next time I go to the temple!”

It was a placid, if hurried walk to the Benkei Ryokan, the heavily forested estate tucked like a mystery into the mountainside. Cascades of forests at the mountain’s spurs provided a secreted atmosphere, something she knew Sasori liked. Teuchi’s daughter, Ayame, bowed as she was finished sweeping the outer veranda, the engawa subject to shed blossom petals that were common in the thick of hanami season. The fragrance of the cherry and peach blossoms were heavenly, Teuchi leading her through the main foyer so beautifully maintained. Without recent guests, the entire family and staff were cleaning it thoroughly in anticipation for the several festivals and dances soon to occur in Gion.

Once they navigated the main body of the estate, it didn’t take long at all to pass through the elegantly austere interior before finding the sprawling gardens and outer lawns, a bath house steaming richly on sweet spring breezes while Teuchi led her to a stone path on the outermost perimeter, ushering her through a locked, wooden gate he kept open while she passed through.

“Good luck, Haruno-sama. I only hope whatever is going on that it might be resolved peacefully.” Teuchi bid farewell with a final bow, and Sakura reciprocated before the gate was gently shut and she felt as though she’d just traversed through a portal into another world.

The gently wooded path was dappled with sunlight, the creaking of swaying trees and fluttering leaves making Sakura’s heart beat in anticipation as she mounted the gently ascendant stone stair flanked with an underbrush of ivy that would take her into the heart of Sasori’s world; part of her wondered if her clients felt similarly transported, enough that she felt like their lover.

Her heart stuttered guiltily at that.

The minutes-long trek soon birthed sight of a surprisingly large workshop open to the elements, Sakura cresting a hill and taking a brief, if nervous pause. From her vantage point through the lacy coverage of plum Japanese maple leaves, she could catch glimpses of Sasori’s red hair and his handsome profile as one of his puppet’s heads was being carefully sanded and polished, the scrape of sandpaper over wood almost audible from where she stood; that, or she imagined she could hear it.

Steeling herself, Sakura made her descent, footfalls mostly disguised by the loud sanding of the mannequin’s head, his methodical work slowing when the puppeteer realized he wasn’t alone.

“Sasori-sama.”

Riveted by the sound of her voice, Sasori almost dropped his sand paper before he remembered himself and set it aside to emerge on his workshop’s engawa, normally hooded eyes widening with his mouth slightly ajar. The moment was prolonged, the man acting as if he’d stumbled into a dream, and perhaps he had. Though, the time to be captivated by the geisha’s beauty was sundered as the older man remembered their last encounter, schooling his features neutrally.

“…Sakura-san. Please, come inside. I wasn’t expecting guests,” Sasori greeted formally as he nodded towards a flight of stairs nearest to his workshop, Sakura’s heart rattling in her throat despite how far she’d gotten. Part of her wanted to turn away, but knew it’d be impossible by that point. She had to show him the truth of her heart as he had to her. “You must’ve come a long way. I’ll fetch us some tea.”

“…Thank you, Sasori-sama,” Sakura murmured lamely, unable to find her voice at that moment. As Sasori departed the cluttered, busy room for the kitchen in the inner sanctum of his home, she politely waited, yet her eyes were unable to help but wander. Proving over the myriad stands with partially completed figures, of limbs dangling morbidly from their stores on the ceiling, to spools of exquisite silks used in the cloth-making, but—something reserved in its own glass case badly startled the woman.

It was… her. Or, more accurately, the likeness of her she’d seen dancing just a few weeks ago. It was even more exquisite up close, head and neck comprised of utterly expensive ivory that shone like porcelain, polished jade staring blankly back at her while sparkling ruby lips were prettily shut; the rest of her obscenely pricey kimono shimmered like flaxen gold strands in its meticulous up-keeping. With it so unerringly beautiful, Sakura froze while she studied it, the world around her melting away.

Is this what Sasori saw in her? The thought heated her cheeks.

“She’ll never dance again.” Sakura startled and wheeled around, jolting away from the glass case the moment Sasori’s reflection manifested in its surface like she’d been stung. The man himself strode towards it, navigating his many workbenches fluidly. He produced a key from his kimono sleeve, opening it and admiring it for a long moment before cupping its face with the gentility of a lover. “The eyes’ hue isn’t quite right. They’re almost perfect, but it’s not perfect enough. But, I can’t bear the thought of touching her, of… destroying her.”

The silence between them reigned loud and like knives, until the cadence of a cicada in the forest broke the spell.

“Sakura-san… why did you come here?” he asked levelly while removing his hand and carefully shutting the glass case, locking mechanism clicking shut.

“I was worried about you. You suddenly disappeared from the scene, so I found Teuchi-san and he led me here—”

Sasori smiled blandly. “Of course he did. And you must have smiled and worn your graces, as you were trained to.” His gaze was mirthless… and sad. But it wasn’t on her. It was almost as if it were too painful to look at her, period.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong? Maybe I can help—”

He shook his head before she could finish, the woman having to bite down a flush of chagrin at being cut short, but the heavy look in his eyes silenced any iota of indignation. As she stuck out like a sore thumb amid the bastion of his creations, slowly did he walk towards her and Sakura found herself inexorably backpedaling against one of the workbenches, gasping when her side touched something sharp and Sasori reflexively seized her by the waist and far from whatever sharp instrument was atop it, all before he realized their newfound proximity. But, instead of releasing her in a fluster, it became a genuine embrasure Sakura tensed into in surprise.

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” Sasori murmured against her temple, hand sinking to the small of her back. “But, more than that, I can’t stand the thought of you smiling to anyone but me, of you dancing for another… I made her to ease that pain, but I think it’s only become worse.”

“Hey, Sasori-sama!” Sakura called loudly and wrenching her somewhat free of his embrace, the puppeteer blinking down at her in surprise. “Get a grip, will you? I’m right here! Talk to me… _please_.”

Sasori grew uncharacteristically quiet, then sighing as he craned somewhat to rest his brow on hers. “I’m your danna, Sakura-san,” he began in a low, intimate timbre. “How can I keep being that to you when I’m in love with you?”

Sakura’s head bowed against his chest, gripping the lapels of his kimono. She sniffed, emotion flooding her all at once. “Dammit, Sasori,” Sakura hiccuped against his bare breast, misting his exposed skin. “Does that make me a bad benefactor, then?” Though her throat was too constricted to say _it_ aloud, Sasori chuckled softly, understanding.

“No,” he murmured tenderly, nosing into her neck. “Not at all. It makes you perfect.” Carefully did one of his arms loosen to gently cup the underside of her jaw and cheek, smiling so beatifically it made Sakura’s heart lurch towards him. She craned towards him, the redhead huffing softly before he closed the distance between their mouths with a soft, passionate kiss.

They gasped when they parted, brows touching. “Won’t you dance for me, my cherry blossom?”

Sakura’s arms wrapped around his neck, his returning to embrace her tightly in return. “Yes, I can. I can if it’s for you, Sasori.”

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I was really surprised to discover that so many people wanted a sequel! Being as indulgent as I am, of course I had to deliver. Hopefully you all like how it turned out! And who knows--maybe I'll do more for this Sasosaku geisha verse in the near future? We'll see, of course!


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